


13 nights of halloween

by killerqueenwrites



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 13 nights of halloween challenge, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cats, Copious Movie References, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Halloween, Here we go, Morgan is a little shit, Movie Night, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Sugar High - Freeform, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Trick or Treating, ironfam, multidimensional fuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-11-15 11:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueenwrites/pseuds/killerqueenwrites
Summary: 13 halloween prompts, from spooky to angsty to fluffy.





	1. candy

**Author's Note:**

> have i bitten off more than i can chew this october? quite possibly lmao (by which i mean i'm also doing whumptober why did i think this was a good idea h e l p)
> 
> if you want something else spooky-ish, check out my supernatural/monster hunting au series, 'family business'.
> 
> i wrote this suuuper drunk so I probably thought it was funnier than it actually is. forgive me it was freshers week. anyway, this is entirely ridiculous, but enjoy!

“–and her bedtime is eight-thirty, no later than nine, you got that?”

“Yes, sir.” Peter drops one of his many backpacks to the floor, where it makes a worryingly loud thud.

“You know your way around, just ask FRIDAY for the TV or if you want takeout – what was that?” Tony narrows his eyes. “What the hell is in your backpack?”

“Candy!”

“Candy?”

“Yeah, I stopped on the way over here – they have all the Halloween candy in stores now, it’s awesome.”

“It’s September.”

“And?”

“And how much candy is in your backpack?”

“…a lot?”

“Okay. And how much of it did you intend to give your sister?”

“…also a lot?”

“Right.” Tony resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. His kids are going to be the death of him. “Just…make it less than that. And only one juice pop; don’t let her manipulate you.”

“You got it, Mr Stark. Enjoy your meal!”

“Yeah, when you have kids you’ll realise that’s not actually possible.”

“When?”

“Okay, if. Guess you’re already a big brother.” Tony checks his watch. “Uh, gotta go. Morgan? Be good for your brother!”

“Uh-huh!”

“In bed by eight-thirty,” Tony reiterates, and rushes out of the house to Happy’s car.

“What took so long?” Pepper asks.

“Just making sure Peter’s okay with everything.”

“Tony, he practically lives here.” Pepper smooths down her dress, sleek and blue, reminiscent of the one she’d worn at that gala so many years ago. “He’ll be fine. They both will be.”

“I haven’t left them alone since…” Logically, Tony knows it’s been nearly a year since the Blip, but letting Peter out of his sight is still a challenge, to say the least.

“They’ll be fine, Boss,” Happy agrees. “It’s only for a few hours. FRIDAY will call you if anything goes really badly wrong. Otherwise, Peter can handle it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they’ll be fine.”

* * *

Peter waits until he hears Happy pull away before he opens his backpack. “Hey, M? You wanna see what’s in here?”

“What?”

“Lots of cool shit, that’s what.” _I just swore in front of the five-year-old. Mr Stark is gonna kill me._

“Peter!” Morgan pouts at him. “That’s Mommy’s word!”

“Right, right, my bad.” Peter pulls out a couple of lollipops. “You want one?”

“As well as a juice pop?”

“I mean, I guess…” He’s the biggest pushover when it comes to Morgan, but that’s not exactly news. “But only one juice pop. FRIDAY will tell on me otherwise.”

“Ugh, fine.”

“Yeah, fine.”

She sticks her tongue out, and Peter does the same.

“Can we watch a movie?”

Peter checks the time on his phone. “Okay, but not all of it. It’s bedtime soon.”

“Ew, bedtime.”

“Look, I don’t make the rules, okay? That’s Dad’s job.”

“Peeeeeter, don’t be _boring!”_

There’s really nothing he can say to that. “You trying to get me in trouble, M?”

“Noooo!”

“No? Because I think you are.”

“You won’t let me have _funnnn._ Harley lets me have fun.”

Peter pretends to gasp, pressing a hand over his heart. “Are you saying I’m less fun than Harley? I’m hurt, Mongoose.”

“Maybe…”

“But you know what Harley gets for that? Harley gets yelled at.”

“Only because Daddy finds out.” She really is Mr Stark’s daughter.

“Right, so what do you suggest doing that Dad wouldn’t find out about?” It’s so normal to him, mimicking Morgan calling Mr Stark ‘Dad’, that he barely thinks about it anymore. He won’t say it to the man’s face, though.

“Eating candy!”

“Eating candy…” Peter acts like he’s considering it. “I guess we could do that _and_ watch a movie, huh?”

“Yes yes yes!” Morgan shouts, clapping her little hands together.

Peter still remembers meeting her; he’d been hunched over on a hard chair in a hospital corridor, waiting, when Pepper had deposited a tiny person in his lap and announced, “This is your little sister.”

And Morgan had looked at him, smiled at him, _known_ him, been raised on stories of him. It’s no secret that he’s wrapped around her little finger, even though May and Pepper both find it hilarious that she has him, Mr Stark and Harley whipped.

“Okay, so how about I put my overnight bag in my room, and you choose a movie and get it ready? Sound good?”

“Yeah!”

“Awesome.”

He takes longer in his bedroom then he thought he would, gets distracted by a meme Ned sends him, then by texting heart emojis to MJ (she pretends to hate it but Peter knows otherwise), then digging out his laptop charger so he can plug it in overnight, then changing into his pyjamas because why not? It’s a movie night.

In all, it’s probably no more than ten or fifteen minutes before he makes his way back to the living room, only to find it empty, the TV dark.

“Morgan?”

Some of his bags are strewn across the doorway haphazardly and the blankets and throws on the couch are a mess.

“M? Morgan!”

_She’s only hiding, _he tries to tell himself_._ _She thinks I’m going to tell her off for making a mess._ _There’s no danger. No danger._

His Spidey sense has broken before. The realisation, the _memory_, hits him just as hard as the train had.

And then he hears a laugh.

* * *

“Thank you, honey,” Pepper murmurs, “that was lovely.”

“Hey, you found the place and made the reservation and reminded me about it only a hundred times and wrangled Peter in to babysit–“

“Mm, you make some points.”

Tony smiles as they pull up outside the house, the lake glinting in the moonlight. “Thanks, Hap. Didn’t expect it to be this late.”

“No worries, Boss. You know I’m always…” Happy trails off partway through opening Pepper’s door.

“What?” She’s out of the car in a flash, Tony close behind. “Happy, what?”

Tony sees it too, even if he can’t quite pinpoint what it is; something feels off, just slightly to the left of normal. A glance to the side confirms Pepper has her fingers over her watch, ready to summon her suit, while Happy is already inching towards the front door.

Inside the house is a disaster zone. Bags, coats, couch cushions, toys, even Peter’s phone, are all strewn across the living area. Tony freezes; Happy reaches inside his jacket, the pocket that Tony knows holds his gun.

He flexes the fingers of his vibranium hand, readying for a fight. If anyone has so much as touched his children, they’re going to regret it.

“Ready,” Happy mouths.

“Kids?” Tony calls. “We’re home.”

For a long, agonising moment, there’s nothing – and then footsteps.

Peter appears from the kitchen, looking exhausted, his hair ruffled, his expression nothing short of panic, and Tony’s stomach drops. “Mr Stark, I’m so sorry! I swear I only left her while I went to go get changed and–“

Tony quickly looks him up and down; Peter seems fine, so he moves on quickly. “Where is she?”

Peter blows out a long breath. “Right now she’s running laps around her bedroom, so hopefully that tires her out – I made her brush her teeth, like, three times, so don’t worry about that–“

_Hold up_. “What?”

With a miserable glance upstairs, Peter leans down and plucks one of his backpacks from the floor. It’s nearly empty. “This was supposed to last us for three days and she ate two-thirds of it by herself!” he wails.

“She ate the candy,” Pepper repeats, voice flat with relief.

Peter clearly mistakes that for anger. “Ohmygod, Mrs Stark, I really didn’t mean for this to happen – I can stay up until she wears herself out and you can just go to bed–“

Tony tries to hide his snort, but he does a piss-poor job of it, and then Pepper is giggling, and Happy joins in, until all three of them are almost doubled over with laughter while Peter looks on, seemingly torn between laughing and crying.

“You’re telling me,” Tony manages, “that my daughter is high on Halloween candy right now?”

“I – yeah. Yeah.”

“Oh, my God,” Pepper whispers. “Why weren’t we here? How could we have missed this?” Peter looks on the verge of apologising again until she says, “I would’ve paid money to see Morgan run circles around Spider-Man.”

“Um…”

“Oh, please tell me FRIDAY was recording.”

“Probably? She wasn’t doing anything helpful, like maybe telling me Morgan was eating the candy!” This last part is directed at the ceiling.

Smug silence. From above, there’s a thump followed by excited footsteps.

“Brace yourself,” Peter says.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

“Hey, little miss!” Tony catches her as she leaps off the second step. “Did you go through your brother’s things without asking?”

“Maybe…”

“Maybe?”

“But I said sorry, and he made me clean my teeth three times!”

“Yeah, that was probably unrelated,” Tony mutters. “Listen, you shouldn’t touch other people’s stuff, okay? And too much sugar is bad for you.”

“Okay.” Morgan looks contrite for all of three seconds. “Can I go swimming?”

“Can you–? No, it’s too late, honey.”

“Boring.” And there’s the pout. “I wanna _do_ something!”

“Like what?”

“Play Spider-Man with Peter!”

“M, we’ve been doing that for hours.” Peter looks like he could cry. “I’ve climbed up every inch of every wall and every ceiling. Why don’t you want to _sleep_?”

“Hey, you can go to bed if you want, buddy,” Tony murmurs. “I can ride out the rest of this. You’ve done more than enough.”

“No, it’s okay. I can – can–“ Peter’s yawn is something for the record books. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Yeah, you just sit down on the couch there,” Tony says.

“Just for a minute.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just resting my eyes.”

“Sure, kiddo.”

Peter grumbles something else, but it’s lost as he buries his head in the crook of his elbow and closes his eyes.

“Peter’s silly,” Morgan announces.

“Maybe, but you know who’s even sillier?”

“Who?”

“You, for eating all his candy.” Tony tilts his head at Peter, who now appears to be completely passed out. “Although maybe wearing him out like this more often isn’t such a bad idea…”

“Tony,” Pepper says firmly, “no.”

“No, of course, Mommy’s right, as usual. Hap, feel free to head off now. We got this.”

“Uh-huh.” Happy eyes them warily. “What do you want me to tell May about this?”

“Peter finally ran out of energy.”

“No, I di’n’t!”

“Sure, kid.”

Peter grouses into the couch cushion.

“All right,” Happy says, heading for the door. “Good luck.” And then he’s gone.

Peter’s head pops up. “Hey, why is he talking to May?”

* * *

It takes another hour before Morgan finally tires herself out, and when she crashes, she crashes _hard_.

Tony ends up on the couch with Morgan snoring into his shoulder and Peter lying across his legs.

Pepper walks down the stairs, her lips pressed together as she tries not to laugh.

“Not a word,” Tony warns.

“Just admiring a father in his natural habitat.”

“Pinned to the couch being used as a pillow? Yeah, sounds about right.”

She smiles, leaning down to press a kiss to Morgan’s forehead, then Peter’s, and finally Tony’s. “I’m going to bed. You look like you have your hands full.”

“Literally,” Tony grumbles.

“Goodnight, Tony.”

“You’re not even going to help?”

“I’m not waking them up! Not when she’s finally settled down.”

Morgan’s arms tighten around Tony’s neck in her sleep. “Okay, yeah, she’s not moving any time soon.”

“That’s what I thought.” Pepper turns and heads up the stairs. “Enjoy.”

“How could I not?” Tony grumbles.

Morgan snuffles and turns her face into his cheek. Peter snores lightly, his face squashed against the cushions. His kids.

Yeah, how could he not?


	2. abandoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” Peter says, so gently, gentler than Tony thinks he’s ever heard him. It’s a startling contrast to what he knows Peter can do; he’s often thought the same thing about Bruce Banner. “Hey, baby, you wanna come out? I don’t have food, but I give excellent hugs.”
> 
> There’s a sharp meow from behind the Dumpster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some more fluff because i'm updating my whumptober at the same time lmao
> 
> did i mention that @hailing-stars made these prompts? because @hailing-stars made these prompts

“How was that?” Tony asks as they leave the restaurant.

Peter grins up at him – or maybe over at him? God, the kid’s getting tall. “So good, Mr Stark! Thank you so much!”

“No worries, Underoos.”

Peter frowns a little. “I know it’s not a lot to you, but it feels like it to me, so. Thank you.”

Tony nods. _This kid_. “Okay. I get it, buddy.”

“But seriously, it was really good–“ Peter breaks off, twisting to stare down the alley they’d just passed.

“What?” Tony follows his gaze, but he doesn’t have Peter’s enhanced senses. “Stop looking down dark alleys. Creepy things.”

“I thought I heard–“ And then Peter bolts away, disappearing into the shadows.

“Peter!” He doesn’t have his suit. Tony doesn’t have a suit. They’re exposed, defenceless against whatever the hell Peter’s noticed. “Dammit,” Tony hisses, and follows him anyway.

It takes a second for his eyes to adjust, but he starts to make out the shape of a Dumpster, a few stray trash bags, a pile of cardboard boxes. No sign of the kid.

“Peter?” _Shit shit shit_. “Peter!”

“Mr Stark, shh!” Peter’s head pops out from behind the Dumpster and Tony sags with relief.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?”

Peter disappears again, and Tony picks his way over the mess after him.

“Hey,” Peter says, so gently, gentler than Tony thinks he’s ever heard him. It’s a startling contrast to what he knows Peter can do; he’s often thought the same thing about Bruce Banner. “Hey, baby, you wanna come out? I don’t have food, but I give excellent hugs.”

There’s a sharp _meow_ from behind the Dumpster.

“Okay.” Peter plops down on the ground. “I’m gonna wait here, then. You take your time. Mr Stark, you want to sit?”

“I do not.” Tony crouches down, eyes trained on the shadows. “It’s like you want ten different diseases. Is this all part of an elaborate plot to kill me?”

“Damn, you got us. Harley wanted to give you a good send-off before he graduates college and then claim his inheritance, so he doesn’t have to work ever in his life.”

“Guess who’s being written out of the will?” Tony shakes his head. “I regret ever allowing you two in the same state as each other.”

Peter huffs out a laugh, and they fall into silence.

A dark shape slinks out from behind the Dumpster, hesitant, and sniffs Peter’s foot. He stays perfectly still.

It’s a black cat, limping along on three legs with the fourth held above the ground, its fur soaked and filthy. It circles Peter once, appraising him, before crawling into his lap and curling up.

“Okay,” Tony says, his voice pitched higher in surprise. “Look at you, you’re a natural.”

“A catural, if you will.”

“I will not.” Tony reaches out slowly, but the cat moves its head away.

“You scared her,” Peter says without any accusation in his voice.

“How do you know it’s a her?” Tony counters, mostly to cover up the fact that he’s so far out his depth with this. It’s the same feeling as the day Morgan was born, the day of the ferry when he realised that losing Peter simply wasn’t an option anymore; this thing in front of him is unfamiliar but frighteningly tiny and breakable.

“I rescue a lot of cats. Look, just hold your hand out slowly. Let her sniff you. It’s her personal space; she has to let you in it.”

Tony rolls his eyes but does as he’s told. This time, the cat delicately extends her nose and sniffs before turning away with disinterest.

“There. She doesn’t like me. Let’s go.”

“No, she does.” Peter grins down at her – great, she’s started purring. “Oh, are you enjoying this? Yeah, you are. Yeah, you are!”

She rubs her head on his chin, her eyes closed. So she’s already adopted Peter. Wonderful.

“I think it’s time to start making a move, kid,” Tony says eventually.

“But Mr Stark – she’s hurt – look, her leg – and no vets are open this time of night – and she can’t go to a shelter, people don’t adopt black cats–“

_Dammit_. “You’re sure she doesn’t belong to anyone?”

“She doesn’t have a collar, and she’s really thin, so no.”

Tony heaves a sigh, pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re explaining all this to Pepper.”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely!”

He’s such a damn pushover when it comes to his kids. “All right, let’s get in the car, at least. It’s getting cold, and you have the homeostasis of an ice cube. Her leg can wait until morning.”

Peter rolls his eyes but stands up, gently cradling the still-purring cat in his hands. “We’ll get you somewhere warm, that sound good? I bet you like being warm.”

“Peter, stop baby-talking to the cat.”

They start walking, all of Peter’s attention focused on what he’s carrying.

“Watch where you’re going – honestly, it’s like you try to stress me out on purpose.”

“She’s my child now.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“My baby.”

“Peter, please shut up.”

_“Mrow!”_

* * *

Tony prefers to drive with a shift-stick – call him old-fashioned – so when he reaches down without looking to shift down at a red light, he feels a soft head butt against his hand.

“Hello, stinky.”

“Mr Stark!” Peter gasps. “You have to be nice to her.”

“Why?”

“She could be a witch’s familiar, or have important information for a quest. She could be testing us–“

“Christ, Peter, the cat is not a plot device.”

“You don’t know that.”

The cat _mrrrrps_ in clear agreement and reaches her front paws out.

“Why does this damn cat know English?”

* * *

The lights are off when they finally get back to the lake house. Tony’s not surprised; it’s late.

“Looks like you’re off the hook for tonight, Parker. You’re on your own tomorrow.”

“How could you look at this face and be mad, Mr Stark?” Peter raises the cat like Simba at the start of _The Lion King_.

“Very easily, don’t worry.” Tony ignores the wide beseeching eyes – both pairs, in fact. “Come on, quick, or I’ll lock you both in the car overnight.”

He won’t, and Peter knows that. He takes Tony’s threats about as seriously as Morgan does.

* * *

“You’re not bringing her upstairs.”

“Aww, c’mon–“

“Absolutely not.”

“She’s clinging to my sweater, look!”

“Oh, good, she’s just as clingy as you. You’re perfect for each other.”

Peter pouts. Tony folds his arms. Neither of them move for a moment.

“You’re gonna make Hocus sleep in a strange place all by herself?”

“Who?”

“Hocus!” Peter says brightly, like it isn’t half-eleven at night and he isn’t holding a dirty cat wrapped in one of Tony’s very soft, very luxurious towels. “She’s a spooky cat, and she needed a name, so I thought this one sounded like Halloween.”

Right. Okay. Whatever. Today’s already been so damn weird. “Sure. Hocus, then. I was actually going to suggest that, since she’s now surgically attached to your jumper, that you sleep downstairs with her. That’s what you do with new pets, right?”

A faint glimmer of hope sparks in Peter’s eyes, and Tony’s powerless against it. “So, she’s getting used to _here_, right? Because we’re not allowed animals in the apartment, and May’s allergic, so–“

“Yes, Parker, I will house and feed your stray for you, because I’m too tired to say no.”

“That’s the spirit, Mr Stark!” Peter chirps.

Damn this kid.

* * *

“Tony.” Pepper’s voice is very even and very, very dangerous. “Are you aware that Peter is asleep on the couch with a cat?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Did you check it for fleas? Rabies?”

“I’m sure the cat doesn’t have rabies.”

“But did you _check_?”

Tony resists the urge to roll over and go back to sleep. “No, I didn’t check, because I wanted to go to bed and I was already embarrassed by my inability to say no to him.” He gives Pepper a sheepish smile. “She’s called Hocus, by the way. Gonna have to introduce her to Gerald.”

“You can’t just go around picking up cats, Tony.”

“We’re pretty sure she was abandoned. Looked half-starved. I’m sure he raided the kitchen for her during the night.” At Pepper’s glare, he shuffles a little further under the duvet. “Look, I drew the line at bringing the cat upstairs.”

“And that was apparently the only thing.” Pepper shakes her head, but she’s coming around. “You’re such a pushover with those two.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” Tony grumbles.


	3. the wind, the rain, the cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sudden gust of wind crashes against the windows of the cabin. Morgan squeaks in shock, and even Peter jumps.
> 
> “Now we know it’s fall,” Tony says calmly, and turns his attention back to the movie, hoping they do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm running a little behind, but thank you all for being patient! here's some ironfam fluff just because. sorry it's a little short

It’s a quiet, if chilly, night at the lake house. _Coco_ is playing on the TV, “because it’s _fall_, Mr Stark, it’s a great fall movie.”

Peter sits up suddenly, jerking Tony’s arm off his shoulders.

“What’s up, kid?”

“Feels weird,” Peter mutters. “Like…the weather’s changing, or something.”

“You’re not one of those freaky people that can sense thunderstorms, are you?”

“I don’t know, it just…” Peter shrugs back into his pile of blankets, shuffling so Tony’s arm is around his shoulders again.

_“Mrow.”_

“No. Off the sofa, stinky.”

“Mr Stark, leave her alone.”

“Hey, you heard the vet. She’s not allowed to jump anywhere until the cast comes off.”

Peter, rather than leaving the cat on the floor, pitches forward and scoops her up, letting her curl up against his chest. “There. She didn’t jump.”

Tony knows a lost cause when he sees one. “Fine. Whatever. But I’m not your fall guy this time. The full force of Pepper’s anger is being directed at you and you alone.”

The full force of Pepper’s anger, when she walks back in with two cups of hot chocolate, turns out to be her expression softening at the sight before her and cooing at Hocus like she’s a baby. Betrayed, ignored, replaced, forgotten – Tony might as well start packing his suitcase.

“Hot chocolate, Peter.” Pepper hands it over. “And Morgan, yours is going on the coffee table until it cools down.”

“Thank you,” Peter hums, taking a sip. Hocus butts his head with hers, sniffing. “No, not for you. Mine.”

Hocus responds with an affronted huff and disappears into Peter’s blanket pile.

“Why does she do that?” Morgan asks, her legs swinging.

“Because cats like being warm,” Peter says, “and because she doesn’t like Mr Stark.”

“No, _I_ don’t like _her_. I started this. It was my idea.”

“Nah, I think cats always win,” Peter says with a cheerful grin, before glancing at the dark windows again. “I’m sure the wind’s picking up.”

“What’s the worst that happens?” Tony asks. “Trees down, roads blocked, you getting stuck here for an extra day or so?”

“Nightmare.”

Something warm settles in Tony’s lap underneath the blanket, almost…buzzing? Humming?

The cat. The cat is purring. Huh.

A sudden gust of wind crashes against the windows of the cabin. Morgan squeaks in shock, and even Peter jumps.

“Now we know it’s fall,” Tony says calmly, and turns his attention back to the movie, hoping they do the same.

He might have been successful, if there hadn’t been a little warning patter of rain before it absolutely throws itself against the cabin walls. Tony can even hear it sloshing into the lake.

“Gerald’s in his shed, right?” Pepper asks, blowing on Morgan’s hot chocolate before she hands it over.

“Yeah, got him in after dinner.”

“Good. Fri, do you mind turning the heat up a few degrees?”

_“Of course, Mrs Boss.”_

Peter seems tense for some reason, but he sips from his mug and snuggles against Tony and watches the film, and all seems right with the world. Tony can feel the chill in the air, though; they’re in for a miserable winter, and Peter has it worse than anyone.

The TV flicks off a split second before everything else, and that’s their only warning. With a dull thump, the power cuts out and the house goes dark.

“Shit,” Tony mutters. “Hey, Fri? Reboot systems, please.”

Nothing. Duh. FRIDAY’s connected to the power.

“I can try and get to the backup?” Tony says. “The not-so-mini arc reactor.”

“Tony, that’s–“

“Out in the garage. Shit.”

“I thought you said that was Mommy’s word?” Morgan pipes up.

“And it still is. I’m still borrowing it. Um…”

“Candles, honey.” At least Pepper has her head together. “And matches. They’re in the kitchen. I’ll start a fire – the heating’s gone, too.”

As if to demonstrate the fact, Peter shivers.

“Yeah, fire sounds good,” Tony agrees. He reaches under his blanket to retrieve the still-purring cat and deposits her on Peter’s lap. “Underoos, you just stay under there. Cuddle Morgan and the cat. Couple of ready-made hot water bottles for you.”

“But I can–“

“Nope.” Tony stands, adding his blanket to Peter’s pile to emphasise the point. “Stay under there.”

“‘Kay.”

Hocus fights her way out from the extra blanket and huffs, whether in amusement or disapproval, Tony can’t tell.

“Remind me,” Pepper says once they’re out of earshot, her eyes glimmering dangerously, “why we decided to move out to the middle of nowhere.”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” And it had. Tony couldn’t stay in the city, not after the Snap. Too many ghosts.

“Mm.” She turns away with a smile, rifling through the kitchen drawers.

Tony drags the wood basket over to the fireplace and starts cleaning out the ash from the last time it had been lit.

“It’s _dark_,” Morgan observes, like she’s been in a parallel dimension for the last few minutes – entirely possible, given that she’s five.

“Here, look.” Peter switches on the flashlight on his phone. “Is that better?”

She frowns. “Bright.”

“You’re not wrong, M.”

Tony tries to hide his laugh by stacking kindling in the fireplace.

“Here.” Pepper arrives with her arms full of candles and starts placing them out of reach of any small animals that might be wondering around. “I knew we had some lying around. The power cuts when we first moved out here were awful.”

“Really?”

“Oh, it was dreadful. I was pregnant, which didn’t help. Power would shut off with no warning, cell service would randomly drop out, TV channels got scrambled – it took maybe a year after the Snap for the world to really settle back into place. The people, though, they took longer.”

“…oh,” Peter says in a tiny voice.

Tony clears his throat, dusts his hands off on his sweatpants. “Can I have the lighter, Pep?”

She lights the last of the candles and hands it over. The whole room is illuminated with flickering orange, long shadows dancing up the walls.

“Spooky,” Peter observes with an unabashed amount of glee. “This is an _aesthetic_, Mr Stark. Imagine if we had pumpkins right now?”

“Well, we don’t.”

“Don’t be a killjoy.”

“Bah humbug.”

Hocus scowls at Tony as he sits back down; he didn’t know it was physically possible for a cat to do that, but you learn something new every day.

“You warm enough?” Tony says to Peter, eyeing the cat sprawled across his chest and the Morgan clinging like a limpet to his other side.

“Mm-hm. Thanks.” Peter grins. “Look, we have candles and a black cat. I have the big spook.”

_Jesus Christ._ “Do teenagers just say whichever words they like in whatever order they choose?”

“Um, yes?”

“I’m gonna start needing a translator.”

Pepper adds another log to the fire and sits next to Morgan on the couch. “I vote we all stay down here tonight. This will be the only warm place in the house.”

Morgan yawns, closely followed by Peter, then Tony, then Hocus.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Tony watches his children as they fall asleep, their eyes drifting shut slowly, the firelight dancing on their delicate features. They’re so small, getting too big too quickly, growing up too fast. They’re his, to protect and cherish and, eventually, let go.

“You’re thinking loud,” Pepper whispers with a gentle smile.

Tony waves it off. “‘M being sappy. Don’t worry about it.”

They sit in silence, listening to the rain lashing against the windows, the fire crackling, the cat purring. Tony’s almost glad the power went out; this peaceful, still, golden moment is–

The lights flick back on. The TV keeps playing the film like nothing happened. Tony squints, hissing, “Turn it _off_, Fri. Lights down.”

Peter stirs, one bleary eye half-open, and buries his face in Tony’s shoulder with a whine of protest.

Pepper shakes her head, one hand smoothing down Morgan’s hair. “First thing tomorrow, you’re putting your money where your mouth has been for six years and taking us off the mains.”

“You got it, Boss.”

Peter snores into his collarbone. Hocus does battle with the blanket keeping her prisoner. Life is good.


	4. lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stark? Stark, I’ve found him!”
> 
> “Where? Where is he?”
> 
> “You need to reach out – if we lose this connection, we’ll never find him again.”
> 
> “Bring him back!”
> 
> “The bridge needs to be built from both sides – he needs to realise something’s wrong.”
> 
> “And what if he doesn’t?”
> 
> There’s only silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a special shoutout has to go to losingmymindtonight, who, while i was just vaguely considering this concept, came out with an awesome fic along similar lines – ‘We Are Tethered (To the Story We Must Tell)’. highkey recommend.
> 
> there's like a tiny not-quite-mention of sexual assault, more like an implication, but still - be safe!

Peter wakes up with a gasp. _Something_ is lingering at the back of his mind, some strange dream that gets further away the harder he thinks about it.

“You up, honey?”

“Coming!” He rolls out of bed, quickly shoving his suit under it and hiding it behind a few storage boxes, like he always does; May won’t touch them.

_You don’t have to bother_, a voice says_, she already knows–_

No. No, she really doesn’t. What the _hell_?

“Peter, two minutes!”

“I’m up!” He shakes his head, dispelling the strange thought, and quickly throws on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

_Strange_? Why does that sound familiar?

_Because it’s a word, idiot._ Peter huffs and walks out into the kitchen. “It smells really good, May.”

May grins at him. “And _why_ do you sound surprised?”

Why does he? “I…don’t know.”

“I’m kidding, honey. You look like you need to wake up a little.”

“Yeah.” Peter manages a weak smile. “Yeah, that’s probably it.”

* * *

_“Parker? Parker, can you hear me? Dammit.”_

* * *

“Hey, man.”

“Hey, Ned.”

“You okay?”

Peter sighs. “Just…tired, man, you know? Long hours at the internship.”

“What internship?” Ned says instantly. “Did you apply for an internship and not tell me about it? Ohhhh…” He trails off, a conspiratorial grin on his face. “Is it a new code word for – you know?”

“Yeah.” Peter tries for an answering smile. “Yeah, sorry. Dunno why I said that.”

“We can say _internship_ if you want, but I do think _surfing the web_ is way cooler. More wordplay, right?”

“Yeah. We’ll stick with that.” Peter frowns down at his binder as they start walking to class. _Where did that come from?_

* * *

_“Stark? Stark, I’ve found him!”_

_“Where? Where is he?”_

_“You need to reach out – if we lose this connection, we’ll never find him again.”_

_“Bring him back!”_

_“The bridge needs to be built from both sides – he needs to realise something’s wrong.”_

_“And what if he doesn’t?”_

_There’s only silence._

* * *

Peter pulls his mask over his head and sighs; it always feels awesome getting into his suit after a long day at school.

“Okay, Karen,” he says. “What have you got for me?”

Silence.

_Who the hell is Karen?_

Peter shakes himself and checks his webshooters before opening a call to Ned. It had taken a lot of coding and wiring and swearing, but they’d eventually managed to give the suit the capability to make phone calls.

_Just phone calls,_ Peter reminds himself sternly_, and I don’t even know anyone called Karen._

_“Hey, man!”_

“‘Sup. What are the scanners saying?”

Ned sighs. _“Not a lot. Looks like a quiet night.”_

“Mm.” Peter’s senses prickle and he squints down at the ground. “Wait…that guy’s up to something.”

_“How do you know?”_

“I can sense danger, dude, remember?”

_“Uh-huh. I wish I could see what you were doing right now.”_

Peter scoffs. “What, like a baby monitor?”

_Everything’s disabled by the…Baby Monitor Protocol._

_“Weird way to put it, but yeah.”_ Ned’s voice in his ear chases away Ned’s voice in his head. _“Come on, describe the guy. Let me help.”_

“He’s old-ish. Kinda tall, brown hair, bit of stubble.”

_“Right…”_

“I think I recognise him?” Peter tilts his head. “Like a YouTuber, maybe? Someone on TV?”

_“Eddie Brock, maybe? He’s that journalist.”_

“Ohhhh, yeah.” Peter hops over to the next building, trying to keep up as the man quickens his pace. “What is _up_ with this guy?”

_“You could just…not follow him.”_

“But my senses–“

_“Yeah, the danger sense. Okay, all right. But if there’s a Spider-Man exposé on every front page tomorrow, I never knew.”_

“Nah, man. If I go down, you’re coming with me.”

_Spider-Man’s real name…_

The voice isn’t the one that comes from nowhere, but it doesn’t sound like him talking in his own head. It feels like a memory.

_Spider-Man’s name is Peter Parker!_

_“Peter. Peter? Peter!”_

“What?”

_“It’s been, like, two whole minutes, dude. You just went silent.”_

“Sorry, I just…” Peter glances around in every direction. The man is gone. “Dammit. Lost him.”

_“I’m sure you’ll see him around.”_

“Probably.” Peter stretches. “All right. What do the police scanners have for me now?”

* * *

_“Peter? Peter, you need to listen to me, please. Wherever you are, you don’t belong there, you hear me? You belong here, with your nerd friends and your aunt and Pepper and Morgan and Happy and Rhodey and even that stupid cat that adopted you and…” There’s a choked sob. “And me, kid. Come on. Wake up. Please.”_

* * *

“Hey, have you seen MJ around?” Peter asks the next day. There’s a weird pit in his chest, a yearning he can’t quite pin down.

“Who the hell is MJ?” Ned squints at him. “You don’t mean Mary-Jane Watson, do you?”

“Uhh…”

“Oh my God, dude! Do you _like_ her?”

“Ned, shut up!”

“You do!”

“I barely know her, man. I was just…wondering.” First Karen, now MJ? Is he making people up out of thin air?

* * *

_“There must be something–“_

_“I’m sorry–“_

_“No! Strange, please, you have to–“ The voice breaks. “Please.”_

_“Stark…”_

_“I lost him once, all because you saw that I’d tear the universe apart to get him back. I’ll do it again, and that’s a promise.”_

_A sigh. “You have to be aware that this may not work. He might be lost.”_

_“No. It’s going to work.”_

_“You don’t even know what it is.”_

_“Enlighten me, Doc.”_

* * *

Peter hums to himself while he waits at a crosswalk, trying to drown out the voices, and smiles when a lady glances sideways at him. He’s going mad he’s going mad he’s going–

“Peter!”

It’s that voice again, but not in his head. This is very real and full of panic.

“Peter, look at me!”

He turns, almost on autopilot, and his eyes widen at the sight in front of him.

There’s something like a black hole in the middle of the street, a swirling vortex of orange and red sparks circling around a cloud of darkness. And everyone else…doesn’t care. Hasn’t noticed. Isn’t bothered, and this is something to be bothered about even by New York standards.

In front of the thing – because what other word is there for it? – stand two men with nearly identical goatees. Peter growls in frustration, because they shouldn’t be familiar, but he knows them, he knows them, he _knows_ them-

“Peter,” the first man says again, and he’s crying, “Peter, please, come here.”

“I don’t…”

“Stark, we don’t have much time–“

“I know!” he snaps.

_Stark_. Does Peter know that name? He feels like he should know that name.

“You can do it.” He holds out a hand, and it tugs at something in Peter’s chest, some forgotten familiarity. He feels suddenly, inexplicably homesick. “I’m right here, buddy, you just have to take a few steps.”

The other man grunts. The sparks flicker.

“We don’t have a lot of time, Peter, please. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?” He says Peter’s name like it’s something precious. “Trust me.”

And Peter does, for some reason, but he doesn’t know that he’s ever seen this man before.

“You need to come home with us. We can get you there, but you have to reach out, too, okay? Come on.”

Peter stays rooted to the spot. This can’t be happening. Shit like this doesn’t happen. He must have hit his head on patrol. That’s all this is.

“Peter!” The man’s cry is strangled. “Please, kid, don’t make me lose you. Not again.”

_Again?_

_Mr Stark, please, I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go._

“You remember, Parker,” the other man says. “I know you do. Titan. The dead planet. The ship over Manhattan. Your New York doesn’t look like this, does it? It’s been rebuilt too many times to stay the same. You don’t belong here.”

“I…” Everything Peter knows about himself is falling away, leaving behind a shell, a husk. If he doesn’t belong here, then where? “I don’t know who I am.”

“You’re Peter Parker,” the man – Mr Stark – says. “You’re Spider-Man. You’re Underoos, buddy, Parker when you’re being annoying. You – you’re my kid.”

Trembling all over, Peter takes a tiny step forward.

“Yes! That’s it, come on. You’re nearly there.”

“Mr _Stark_,” Peter whispers, and he suddenly wants nothing more than to be hugged, held close. The tug in his chest is back, pulling him towards the portal, towards home.

He crashes into Mr Stark, sagging against him, and this is familiar, they’ve done it before. This time, though, Peter doesn’t disappear. He feels more solid, more real, than he has for what seems like years.

“Good boy,” Mr Stark gasps, “good boy, I got you, you’re safe, I got you.”

“Hold on,” Doctor Strange mutters, and then they’re falling backwards.

* * *

Peter lands on Mr Stark’s chest with a grunt. Warm arms are still wrapped tightly around him, one hand clasping the back of his head.

“Peter,” Mr Stark whispers, his voice quivering, “_Peter_.”

Peter knows. He remembers everything. He remembers not remembering. “What…?”

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you – God.”

“What happened?”

“You disappeared about a month ago,” Doctor Strange says. He sounds exhausted.

“A month–? I don’t–“

“He found your suit the day after, along with your watch, your phone – any traces of Stark were left behind, or any of the Avengers. Even your, um, tasteful underwear.”

“My what?”

“Hulk boxers.”

Peter stifles a giggle.

“Don’t,” Mr Stark says, his voice muffled as he buries his face in Peter’s hair. “You don’t want to know what I thought happened.”

“Luckily, your suit records everything. It didn’t take long for him to work out you had an encounter with a rogue sorcerer and came off worse.” Peter glances up to see the Cloak settling itself back over Doctor Strange’s shoulders. “I’ve been scouring dimensions since then, hoping to find where he sent you.”

“I thought I lost you,” Mr Stark whispers. “God, again.”

“You found me.”

Doctor Strange clears his throat.

“Okay, _he_ found me. You brought me back.”

“Yeah?”

“I heard you. I didn’t know what it was, but I heard you.”

Mr Stark presses a long kiss into the top of Peter’s curls, then another one to his temple, before hauling them both into a sitting position. “God, it’s good to see you, Underoos.”

“You too.” Everything settles into place, everything that Peter had been missing. “It was, like, just me and Ned and May. No Avengers. No you. No Morgan, or Harley sending me stupid memes.”

“No Morgan? That sounds terrible.”

“And no Hocus.”

“Well, you were clearly in a better place. No cat? Send me there.”

“Mr Stark!”

Strange clears his throat. “There shouldn’t be any effects from your little trip, Peter. Maybe some confusion or disorientation; it will help if you have something to ground you.” His gaze cuts to Mr Stark. “Other than that, you’re clear to go.”

“Thank you,” Peter says sincerely as Mr Stark pulls him to his feet. “Thank you so much, Doctor Strange.”

“Hm,” Strange grunts, but his expression is gentle. “Try to avoid any interdimensional trips from now on.”

“Yessir.”

“And you, Stark? Never threaten to rip apart the fabric of the universe again, if that’s quite all right with you.”

Mr Stark snorts. “Strange, thank you.”

“Of course.” Strange opens a portal with his usual flair; Peter catches sight of the sun glinting off the lake, and grins. “Go on. People waiting for you. Chop-chop.”

They duck through the portal, Mr Stark’s arm still tight around Peter’s shoulders. There’s an excited yell from inside the house, then a high-pitched shriek, then Harley Keener bursts through the door, vaults over the porch rail and charges at Peter. Morgan follows, then May and Pepper, Rhodey and Happy, every one of them wonderfully familiar.

Harley yanks him into a hug, muttering threats about what he’ll do if Peter _ever_ disappears like that again, and Mr Stark smiles.

“Welcome home, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did i write this? a) the sony-disney bullshit b) that scene in dr who where eleven is trying to get clara to remember who she is. it fully makes me sob.


	5. hoodies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Clothes off,” Tony orders. “Wrap yourself in a blanket and wait until I bring you a change of clothes, and then I’ll light the fire. Sound good?”
> 
> “Very good.” Peter starts to peel his sodden hoodie off. “Oh, uh, all my clothes are in the wash.”
> 
> “No worries. Hang tight, Web-doodle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something short and sweet to keep me on schedule. once again, thank you so so so so so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter! i'll try and get around to replying to them once life calms down a bit
> 
> also if you're here from tumblr, i didn't update the masterpost for the last chapter, so you might be one behind. apologies.

“Daddy!” Morgan’s scream echoes all the way up from the lake, and Tony’s blood freezes. “Daddy, Peter fell in the water!”

Tony bolts out of the house, towards her voice, towards where he knows the kids had been playing, and finds them already halfway back. A completely dry Morgan is tugging on Peter’s hand, who’s soaking wet and looks almost grey with cold.

“Jesus,” Tony mutters, putting an arm around Peter and hurrying him along. “Come on, inside. Quick.” He relaxes a little at the sight of both of them alive and relatively intact, basking in the relief for a moment.

Peter shivers violently, and it jolts Tony into action again.

“Maguna,” he says, trying to sound as urgent as possible without panicking her, “how about you run up to the house and tell FRIDAY to turn the heating up, yeah?”

“Okay!” Morgan scampers off.

“All right, spill, kid,” Tony says once she’s gone. “We both know you didn’t just _fall_.”

“M-my fault,” Peter insists. “W-wasn’t w-watching her the whole time.”

“She ran onto the ice, right?”

Peter nods. “N-not as – thick as it l-looks.”

“Uh-huh. Still doesn’t explain why it was you that ended up taking a dip.”

Peter grins. “D-did a switcheroo.” He pulls back his sleeves to reveal his webshooters. “‘Cept I’m obviously heavier than she is, so…”

“He was like Jack Frost!” Morgan announces as Tony helps Peter up onto the porch. “And I was the little sister.”

“Sorry, kid,” Tony murmurs. “Morguna, can you go get some blankets for Peter, please? Yeah, she’s been on a _Rise of the Guardians _kick, or _Frozen_, or whatever the fuck. I should’ve been watching her.”

“‘S’okay.”

“Clothes off,” Tony orders. “Wrap yourself in a blanket and wait until I bring you a change of clothes, and then I’ll light the fire. Sound good?”

“Very good.” Peter starts to peel his sodden hoodie off. “Oh, uh, all my clothes are in the wash.”

“No worries. Hang tight, Web-doodle.”

“Web-doodle?” Peter repeats in disbelief. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, you like it?”

“No.” But Peter’s laughing as he tries to wriggle out of his jeans.

Tony rolls his eyes and walks upstairs, quickly retrieving a pair of his sweatpants and a hoodie from the back of his closet. When he gets back downstairs, Morgan is piling blankets on Peter while Hocus attacks the corners.

“Stop it, Stinky,” Tony says sternly. “Peter needs those, and remember: without Peter, there’s no reason for me to keep you around.”

“Mr Stark!” Peter cries.

“I’m joking, Underoos.” Tony throws the clothes at him, snorts when they land on his face. “Bathroom. Change. I’ll get the fire going, and put your wet things in the laundry.”

“Th’nk ‘ou.” It’s muffled behind the hoodie.

“Yeah, yeah. Go on.” Tony scoops up the discarded clothes and heads for the washing machine. “Hey, this isn’t your hoodie, is it?”

“Umm.” Peter turns, the blanket wrapped around him like a cloak. “No, that might be MJ’s. Or Harley’s. I don’t know, I forget.”

“Forget what?”

“Everyone just, like, donates hoodies to me. I can't keep track of all of them! What about me says I need hoodies?”

“The crappy thermoregulation? The puppy eyes?”

“Crappy!” Morgan echoes.

“No! Nooo, that’s Mommy’s word too.”

“You’re a disaster,” Peter snorts.

“And you can’t remember if this hoodie belongs to your girlfriend or your brother.”

“So I guess this would be a bad time to tell you that I might know where your MIT hoodie went. And it might…be in my closet.”

“You _knew_?” Tony says. “You stood by and watched me accuse Rhodey of stealing it for months, and you knew?”

“I actually didn’t! May found it last week.”

“How did you even…?” Tony snaps his fingers. “Delmar’s. You fell asleep in the car and looked like you needed a blanket.”

“Ohhhh…” Peter trails off with a frown . “I don’t remember that.”

“Well, no, you were _asleep_.”

“Daddy carries me to bed all the time,” Morgan says sagely, like she’s imparting some great wisdom. “That’s probably how you got inside if you can’t remember.”

“Yeah. That’s probably it, Mongoose.”

Tony clears his throat. “Go on, before Pepper and May come home and find you parading around in your boxers.”

“‘Kay.” Peter darts up the stairs. Just before turning around to the fireplace, Tony catches sight of a black flash shooting after him.

“Hey! No cats upstairs!”

The only answer he gets is a laugh, which means Peter’s back to normal. Brat.

“And you.” He turns to his other brat. “You need to be careful around the lake, okay? What if Peter hadn’t been there? You don’t know whether the ice can hold you, and you should have asked. That was dangerous, Morgan.”

“Okay,” Morgan says, “I’m sorry.”

“No more Jack Frost for me, M.” Peter reappears, Hocus balanced on his shoulder, because why the hell not?

“Mm, yeah, you feeling okay? No eyes turning blue, hair turning white, man in the moon giving you Elsa powers?”

“Wow, Mr Stark. Lotta detail there. A worrying amount, in fact.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe I absorb some of what Morgan likes, what about it?”

“Sure.”

“Brat.”

Peter beams, plopping down on the sofa and letting Hocus slip into his lap. “Love you.”

How the _hell _is Tony supposed to argue with that? “Yeah, yeah, whatever, Underoos. Love you too.”


	6. scary movie night (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, what is this?”
> 
> “Scary movie night.”
> 
> “You dragged Harley halfway across the country for a movie night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY included my potato gun son. also tony and mj are an underrated duo.
> 
> in this scenario i'm absolutely peter, and my dad is just like tony, talking the whole time because he doesn't understand what's going on lmao.

Tony returns from dropping Morgan off at her dance class to several teenagers sitting on his couch, buried in a mountain of blankets and cushions. He stands in the doorway for a long moment, unsure what to do. “…hello.”

“Hello,” Michelle deadpans, not taking her eyes off the TV.

_“Mrow.”_

“Hi, Mr Stark!” Peter chirps.

“Hi, kid. Um, what–?”

“That’s rude,” a new voice says, “and here I really thought I meant something to you.”

Tony stares as a new head appears, a mop of sandy blond hair and a casual smirk. “Harley! Hey!”

“Oh, he remembers,” Harley drawls. “Stand down, old man. I only came to see the cat.”

Ned stares with wide eyes; sometimes Tony wonders if he’ll ever get past _holy-shit-it’s-Tony-Stark._

“Yeah, love you too, brat. What’s, uh…?” Tony gestures vaguely to the pile of blankets and pillows. “What’s happening here?”

“Movie night?” Peter’s face falls slightly. “I did ask you – sorry, it was a while ago. Um…”

“Oh. Oh! Movie night. No, yeah, I remember. Must’ve not registered the…other people.” Honestly, he’d thought Peter had been asking for a movie night with just him. What is he supposed to do now? Avoid the living room for the whole night? He can’t hover; he doesn’t want to be _that _parent.

Michelle looks like she’s biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing.

Harley’s smirk widens. “Go on. Hurry up. Pyjamas. We’re waiting on you.”

God bless Harley Keener.

* * *

“So, what is this?” Tony asks when he’s settled back on the couch between his two idiot sons.

“Scary movie night.”

“You dragged Harley halfway across the country for a movie night?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“Because Halloween,” Harley says, “and because I wanted to meet Hocus.”

Hocus _mrrrrrp_s.

“Absolutely worth it.”

“Love your priorities, Spud.”

“You threaten a guy with a potato gun one time…”

“Hate when that happens,” Peter says dryly.

“Hey, you stuck me to your door, Webs.”

“Point.”

“I’ve never heard this story,” Michelle says, her eyes not moving from the screen, “but don’t start telling me now or I will eviscerate you.”

Tony nearly chokes on air.

“Okay,” Peter says happily, and rests his head down on the apparent axe-murderer's shoulder.

“You don’t interrupt MJ when she’s watching movies,” Ned says, as if he’s the only one who can sense Tony’s distress.

“…right.”

“Especially not Halloween movies.”

“Feel that,” Harley agrees.

Tony remembers complaining at Peter, not too long ago, for speaking what seemed like a different language. Now, with four of them, he’s completely lost. “What are we watching?” he asks instead. It looks scary, but in an amusing, Disney kind of way.

“_Hocus Pocus_.”

_“Mrow.”_

“No, not you.” Peter scratches the cat’s head.

“So what’s happening?”

“The witches are trying to steal the children’s life force to stay young forever,” Ned says.

“Pretty sure Neil Gaiman already wrote that book.”

Michelle looks slightly impressed. “Published after this. Film’s good, though.”

Tony grins. “The more you know.” A black cat appears on screen. “Hey, Stinky! It’s you!”

“Mr Stark!”

The movie finishes and Peter gets up; Tony hears him rummaging around in the kitchen, probably for snacks.

Michelle stretches. “What’s next?”

“Next?” Tony says.

“Well, yeah. That was, like, Halloween vibes, but we need to work out way up the scary scale.”

“So, there’s multiple movies involved here? Surely, the correct term would be ‘mov_ies _night’?”

“Surely, the inference from ‘night’ is that there’s time for more than one?”

Tony’s never really interacted with Michelle much before this, just built his impression off what Peter had told him, but she’s going above and beyond his expectations.

“MJ?” Peter yells. “Sweet or salty?”

“Salty, like me.”

“Guys?”

“Either,” Harley and Ned say together.

“Salty, then.”

“All right, since we’re watching mov_ies_,” Tony says, and Michelle smirks, “what’s next?”

“_Woman in Black_?”

Harley snorts. “Nah, can’t get past him being Harry Potter.”

“_Paranormal Activity_?”

“Overdone.”

Michelle looks up, down, around, a slow smile spreading across her face. “…_Cabin in the Woods_.”

Harley reaches across Tony and gives her a high-five.

* * *

About ten minutes in, Pepper and Morgan come in the door – or Pepper comes in the door, carrying a fast-asleep Morgan, and heads upstairs with a smile. Tony pointedly ignores the text he gets that says ‘_hope you’re enjoying being a cool dad’_.

* * *

It soon becomes more than apparent that both Ned and Peter are huge cowards, a discovery that Tony finds hugely entertaining. Peter keeps ducking behind Michelle, and sometimes Hocus, while Ned more often than not buries his head in his blanket.

“Are you _sure _you don’t have a basement?” Peter asks for the fifth time, huddled inside a hoodie that he definitely hadn’t been wearing before the movie started. Probably Michelle’s.

“Very sure, Underoos.”

“No evil entities taking control of our lives?”

“How can we ever know that?” Harley says, crunching popcorn.

Peter’s eyes fly wide.

“Existential crisis incoming.” Michelle taps the top of Peter’s head. “You alive in there, dork?”

“You have very strange ways of showing affection,” Tony observes.

“Good,” is all the answer he gets.

* * *

The movie finishes, Ned peeks up from behind his barrier of cushions and Peter looks like he’s still contemplating the existence of a higher power.

Harley looks at Michelle expectantly; Tony’s so glad he’s found a kindred, snarky spirit. “Next?”

“Hey, uh…” Tony inclines his head towards Scaredy-cats One and Two. “Maybe calm it down a bit.”

“_The Nightmare Before Christmas_.”

“Are you aware what month it is?”

Turns out the film with Christmas in the title is a great Halloween movie for kids. Who knew?

* * *

Surprisingly, it’s Harley that falls asleep first, his head slipping onto Tony’s shoulder, soft and vulnerable in a way he never lets himself be when he’s awake. Peter’s next, legs kicked up into Tony’s lap, head pillowed against Michelle’s stomach, and the cat asleep on his face. Ned ends up snoring into the arm of the couch, and suddenly Tony is left alone with Michelle, trapped by his clingy children.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t suffocate,” she says, with a nod towards Hocus. “She likes me.”

“Mm. I prefer my Spider-kids alive.”

“What a coincidence. So do I.” She squints at him, something approaching understanding in her calculating gaze. They have common ground: Peter.

“I’m glad he has you, Michelle.”

“I’m glad he has you, Stark.”

“Tony,” he offers.

She stares at him for a moment longer before smiling. “MJ.”


	7. haunted (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi, Mr Stark,” Peter says steadily. His fingers are locked in a vice grip around Ned’s wrist. “Any chance your washing machine has an automatic door?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this one’s gonna be scary  
also me: …fluff
> 
> in all seriousness, the washing machine thing happened to me when i was alone in the flat and i nearly flipped my shit

Tony wakes up to Pepper smirking down at him.

“What?”

“Just basking in the presence of the designated ‘cool parent’.”

“Yeah, whatever. They invited, I joined. Harley showed up out of nowhere. I received an education in movies and the blessing of Peter’s girlfriend.”

“Isn’t that supposed to happen the other way around?”

“I kinda get the feeling MJ marches to the beat of her own drum.”

“Well, that’s definitely true.”

Tony smiles and moves to throw the blanket off his legs, but stops when he hears an unimpressed _mrow_.

Pepper beams. “Good morning, Hocus.”

“Why does the cat get a good morning?”

“Because I like the cat.”

"The cat that's not even supposed to be upstairs, but somehow still found its way to our bed?"

"Yes. That one."

“I need coffee,” Tony mutters. “It’s too early for this.”

“Yes, please,” Pepper calls, already halfway out of the door.

Tony clambers to his feet, pointedly ignoring the cat’s unimpressed glare, and makes his way to the kitchen. Peter is already there, facing away from him.

Tony clears his throat. “Morning–“

Peter yelps, whipping around with his webshooters already aiming at Tony’s head.

“Hey, whoa!”

“Oh, Mr Stark!” Peter sags in relief, lowers his hands.

Tony raises his eyebrows and decides it’s safe to head for the coffee pot. “Jumpy today, are we?”

“No? Why would I be jumpy?”

“Dunno. Just thought I heard something moving in the basement during the night.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a basement!” Peter squeaks.

“Don’t I?” With that, Tony picks up his and Pepper’s coffees and head back upstairs.

* * *

He spends first part of the morning reading on the porch, enjoying the last of the warm sunshine. However, it soon dawns on him that he‘s responsible for five children of varying degrees of maturity, and he probably needs to wrangle them for breakfast, if not brunch.

“Peter?” he calls, making his way back inside; he figures he should only really yell at the kids he actually parents. “Harley, Morgan? You want food?”

Once again, Peter is in the kitchen, this time with Ned. They’re staring at something on the other side of the counter.

“What is it this time?”

“Hi, Mr Stark,” Peter says steadily. His fingers are locked in a vice grip around Ned’s wrist. “Any chance your washing machine has an automatic door?”

“No, it’s just normal – kid, what?”

“We’re being haunted,” Ned whimpers, “we’re _so _being haunted. I told MJ she was inviting bad energy in and she didn’t believe me, and you said yes even though you hate scary movies–“

“Hey, hey, whoa, whoa.” Tony steps between them and the offending washing machine. “What’s happening here?”

“Your house is haunted,” Peter announces. “We’re all going to die.”

* * *

Breakfast does indeed become brunch by the time Harley stops laughing at the other two. Pepper rolls her eyes good-naturedly and pulls enough food for seven people out of nowhere; clearly, she remembered about the movie night.

Halfway through his scrambled eggs, Peter whips around, staring towards the back door.

“What, loser?” MJ says, not even turning.

“Didn’t you hear that?” he whispers.

“Parker, you know we can’t hear half of what you do.”

“Harley, swallow.”

“Yes, _Dad_.”

“He has a point, though, Webs. If you’re hearing a bird miles away–“

“Someone said my name.”

“Who’d wanna do that?” MJ drawls.

“Still not convinced you actually like anyone, Jones.”

“Good.”

Peter turns back to his food, but he still looks shaken.

“No more scary movies for you,” Tony decides. “You’ve been jumpy all day.”

“That washing machine door opened by itself, Mr Stark! I watched it happen!”

“Sure, Underoos.”

* * *

Tony puts his foot down that evening, declaring they’re watching a family-friendly movie or nothing. MJ suggests _How to Train Your Dragon_, Peter wants _Moana_, Harley votes for _Rise of the Guardians _(which gets a strong _no_ from Tony after the Ice Incident) and Ned doesn’t mind.

“How about you, Mongoose?” Peter says, bouncing her on his lap. “What do you want?”

“_How to Train Your Dragon_!”

“Excellent choice.” MJ gives her a high-five.

“Why?” Tony asks as FRIDAY loads it up.

“Because dragons.”

“Points were made,” Harley says, and that’s that, apparently.

* * *

“Are you sure there’s no basement?” Peter mumbles, his head resting on Tony’s shoulder and his feet in MJ’s lap.

“Really sure, kid. I was just messing with you this morning.”

“‘Kay. So we’re probably not being haunted by the monsters under your house.”

Tony knows what it is to be haunted, knows how it feels to have someone’s ghost follow him, to see them out of the corner of his eye. “I’m gonna go with no.”

“Cool.”

“Daddy!” Morgan clambers over both Harley and Ned and plops down in Tony’s lap, ignoring his grunt of pain. “Daddy, I want a dragon!”

“Of course you do.”

“Get Peter to take you out swinging,” MJ says. “I feel like that captures the feeling of terror and the windswept hairdo pretty well.”

Tony nods, shooting her a sarcastic grin. “Yeah, absolutely not.”

“I’m gonna ask Mom,” Morgan announces and hops off the couch.

“Wait, about the dragon or about the swinging?” Tony sits up when she doesn’t respond. “Morgan?”

“Mommy! Daddy said Peter could take me out swinging!”

“He said that, did he, honey? Okay, I’m going to talk to Daddy about that. You head back down and watch your film, yeah?”

When Tony looks back at the kids, they’re all staring at him. Pepper’s footsteps are getting closer.

“Run,” Peter says.

He does.


	8. moonlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I used to love the stars,” Peter whispers. 
> 
> “I used to hate them."
> 
> “So what changed?” Peter asks.
> 
> Tony smiles. “You loved them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short again, sorry!! also if you're trying to follow this from my tumblr, i've been pretty lax with updating the posts there, so that's my bad, but real life is Happening to me lmao

Tony wakes up to the sound of the door closing.

Instantly, his mind is filled with panic. Has someone come in? Or left? What if it’s an intruder, sneaking around downstairs while his children are sleeping? Someone taking them from their beds?

“Fri?” he hisses. “What was that?”

_“Peter left the house.”_

“Why?” He climbs out of bed, doing his best not to disturb Pepper. “Is he alone? Where is he?”

He’s downstairs before FRIDAY answers. _“Peter is on the dock, Boss.”_

“Well, what the hell is he doing out there?” Tony makes sure to grab a couple of thick blankets before he heads out, realising too late that he’s only in his socks.

Peter’s sitting at the end of the little pier, his feet dangling just above the water. He doesn’t turn around when Tony sits next to him; he must have heard him approaching.

“This an invitation-only shindig or can anyone join?”

“Guess I can make an exception for you, Mr Stark.”

“Good.” Tony sits next to him and wastes no time draping the blanket over his shoulders. “You need to watch your temperature, Web-doodle. You know that.”

“Sorry.” Peter still doesn’t look at him, his eyes fixed on the night sky.

Tony sighs, tucking the other blanket around himself. “Nightmares?”

“Yeah.”

There’s no point in pushing. Tony’s learned that Peter will come to him in his own time. “It’s pretty out here,” he says instead.

“I used to love the stars,” Peter whispers eventually. “Ben used to drive us out of the city so we could see them better. I thought they were so cool. And then…”

Tony waits.

“Everything happened with the ship. Titan. I died. And now…” Peter swallows. “Space doesn’t seem so cool anymore.”

“I used to hate the stars,” Tony offers. “I saw what came from them. I saw how it nearly cost us the world. Every time I saw the stars, I saw what was coming, what I _knew _would come. For the longest time, I couldn’t stand them.”

“So what changed?” Peter's voice is barely a breath, barely there over the sound of the lake lapping against the little jetty.

Tony smiles. “You loved them.”

Peter exhales, relaxing a little.

“But then I lost you and yeah, I hated space all over again. I hated that I’d stared it down and invited its challenge and I’d _lost_. And out here…you can’t get away from the stars. But do you know what I do instead?”

“What?”

“Look at the moon. That’s brighter than any of them.”

“Always found the moon kinda creepy,” Peter admits.

“Why? It’s just up there, looking out for you.”

“I don’t know. Werewolves and shit.”

“I like it.” Tony twists his head to look at Peter. The kid’s face is softly illuminated by the moonlight; he looks young, too young for this shit. Tony loves him so much. “It’s not as far away as the stars are, right? And the stars seem…colder, somehow.”

Peter finally, _finally _smiles. “Stars burn at temperatures far beyond human comprehension–“

“Yeah, yeah, smart-ass. My _point _is–“

“I got it,” Peter says softly. “Thank you.”

Tony bumps their shoulders together and Peter smiles again, before they fall silent.

_“Mrrrp.”_

“Oh, good. Stinky’s here.”

“Stop calling her that,” Peter scolds, letting Hocus climb into his lap.

“Kid, you found her in a Dumpster.”

“_Behind _a Dumpster, Mr Stark.”

“Oh, well, _that _makes all the difference.”

Tony reaches out of his blanket cocoon to gently brush Peter’s hair out of his eyes, Peter scratches the cat’s head, and they watch the moon together.


	9. doppelgänger (pt. 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Everything okay?” Peter says. “Tony?” Not Peter, that’s not Peter.
> 
> “You tell us,” Tony says slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!! i've updated this fic twice today, so make sure to check out the last chapter if you haven't already.
> 
> this chapter contains a tiny mention of vomiting and also references the events of chapter 4: lost.

Tony fires his repulsors and takes off, just in time to avoid the purple blast of energy.

_“Whoa!” _Peter yelps over the comms. _“That was close – you okay?”_

“I’m good, kid. Focus.”

_“Uh-huh. All right. Oh, shit–!” _Peter dives out of the way of another blast, and Tony’s heart stutters.

“Strange!”

“Can one of you hold him down?” Strange bellows back.

“What do you think we’re trying to do?”

There’s a pissed-off sorcerer rampaging through Manhattan, because of course there is.

_“Hang on!” _Peter lets go of his web and drops, landing on the sorcerer’s shoulders and sending them both crashing to the ground.

“Peter!”

_“I’m good, I’m good, I–“_

Silence.

“FRIDAY?” Tony tries to dive towards where he thought they’d landed, but he can’t see anything.

_“Scanning.”_

“Strange?”

“I’m trying, Stark.”

_“Dammit,” _Peter’s voice groans. “_He got away.”_

Tony gasps out a sigh of relief. “Kid, you hurt?”

_“Something up with my shoulder, but other than that, I’m good.”_

Peter admitting to injuries? That’s a first.

“Okay. Okay, where are you?”

_“Down here.”_

Tony finally zeroes in the familiar red-and-blue suit, stumbling down the middle of the street. How hadn’t he noticed that before? By the time he lands, Strange is there.

“You said he got away?”

Peter waves his hand. “Just…opened a portal, and he disappeared.”

“Dammit,” Strange mutters.

“At least he’s gone, though, right?” Peter says, pulling his mask off. “Fifth Avenue lives another day.”

“True. Thank you both for your assistance,” Strange says with a curt nod.

Tony snorts, clapping Peter on the shoulder as they walk down an empty side street. “Nice work, kid. We’ll get him next time.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Strange whips his head around. Tony jerks back.

“Everything okay?” Peter says. “Tony?” _Not Peter, that’s not Peter._

“You tell us,” Tony says slowly.

Strange moves like a flash, throwing a thread of orange light like a lasso and yanking it so it tightens around Not-Peter, pins his arms to his sides.

“Tony? Tony, he’s hurting me–“

“Stop it,” Tony snaps. That’s Peter’s voice, crying out in pain, crying out for him, but it’s not Peter. “Who the hell are you? Where’s my kid?”

Slowly, slowly, the frightened look slides off Peter’s face, replaced by a horrific, twisted imitation of his kid’s smile.

“Where’s Parker?” Strange yanks the glowing rope a little harder.

“Right here.”

“I’ll ask again.”

“Gone.”

“Listen!” Tony snarls, storming up to the doppelgänger and firing up his repulsor, inches from its face. _Peter’s _face. “You’re gonna give us a straight answer in the next five seconds–“

“I told you, he’s gone.”

Panic is bubbling up Tony’s throat, clawing at him, dragging him down. “Gone where?”

Not-Peter smirks smugly; it looks wrong on his face. “A portal opened and he disappeared.”

“Get him back,” Strange orders. “Right now.”

“Or what?”

Tony clears his throat and wiggles his fingers, his gauntlet humming.

“How about this: you let me go, and I’ll get Spider-Man back?”

“Do it now.”

“Can’t.” Not-Peter shrugs, straining against the magical restraints. “This stops me doing magic. Don’t you know anything?”

“I’m not letting you out,” Strange warns.

“Then the kid stays wherever I sent him. You kill me; he's not coming back."

“Strange…” Tony begs. _Jesus Christ, not again._

“Wonder where he’ll end up this time, huh?”

Tony whips his head back around. “You were the one – the alternate dimensions–“

“You’re so fucking slow,” Not-Peter mutters, rolling his eyes.

So Peter could be anywhere right now – not just anywhere in the world, anywhere in this damn multiverse, because this particular sorcerer just _has_ to be one with the ability to portal himself and other people across dimensions.

“I mean, you could try and find him yourself again. You might not get so lucky this time around, though.”

“Strange, _please_–“

Strange groans, long and drawn-out and frustrated, before he opens his hands and lets the glowing orange rope dissolve into thin air.

For a heart-stopping moment, everything is still, silent.

In the next second, Not-Peter throws his arm out and pulls, tugs on something invisible, and then there’s two Peters in front of them. One Peter falls to his knees, breathing hard, and the other disappears.

“Hey.” Tony drops to the ground, pulls the remaining Peter towards him, cradles his pale face. “Hey, you’re okay.”

“Didn’t like that,” Peter gasps, sucking in huge gulps of air. “Did _not _like that. Not a fan. Nope.”

“There’s my Peter,” Tony says with a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s awesome. Uh, one sec.” Peter staggers to the side of the street and empties his stomach into a trash can. When he’s done, he looks up with a frown. “So, did you get him?”

“No, kid.” Tony turns back to Strange as he clambers to his feet. “What if this guy shows up again? That’s twice now.”

“Twice?” Peter shakily wipes his mouth.

“That’s the same guy who sent you on a little interdimensional trip that time.”

“Hold up, really?” Peter says, stumbling back towards Tony. “I don’t remember him.”

“Well, no, he literally knocked you into a parallel universe.”

“Oh. Yeah, that happened.”

Tony sighs heavily, forcing the terror back down. Peter’s fine. He’s okay. “It sure did. No more weird clones from now on, okay? They’re creepy. No more dimensional fuckery.”

“That sounds, um, awesome. Yeah.” Peter pitches forward, thumping his forehead into Tony’s shoulder. “Need a lie down, like, stat.”

“Okay, we’ll get right on that.” Once again, Tony looks at Strange. “Doc? Feel like getting us home?”

“I’m not your Uber, Stark.” But Strange opens a portal anyway, just as he had last time.

“We’re really making a habit of this,” Tony mutters. “Your aunt’s gonna file a restraining order before long.”

Peter just grunts.

“Okay, yeah. Home time for Spider-baby.”

“Not a baby.”

“Oh, you can answer that? Funny.”

“Stoooop,” Peter whines, “I feel crappy.”

Strange snorts. “I bet. Two multidimensional hops so close together? You’re lucky your atoms aren’t…” He trails off at Tony’s glare. “I mean, there’s clearly no lasting ill-effects, so you’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“You were a doctor?” Tony mutters. “The fuck was your bedside manner like? _Please _tell me you never had to interact with children.”

“Are you going?” Strange says with an exaggerated nod towards the portal.

“Yeah, yeah. Let me know if this guy shows his face again, all right?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks, Mister Doctor,” Peter mumbles deliriously, almost hanging off Tony’s shoulder.

“Yeah, he needs to rest. Okay. Thanks, Doc.” Tony sighs as he steps through the circle of fizzling sparks. “Damn. Making a habit of that as well.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Strange deadpans, and shuts the portal behind them.

“C’mon, Webs.” Tony pulls him towards the house, wondering how the hell he’s going to explain this to May. “Time for a solid nap.”

“Yeah. Mm-hm.”

“You’re okay, kiddo.” He presses a kiss to the top of Peter’s head, still reeling from the realisation that he almost lost his kid, _again_. “Got you back. No more magical detours, hopefully.”

“Wasn’t fun.”

“No, not for me, either.” Tony makes a silent promise: whoever this guy is, this magician, sorcerer, wizard, he’s going to regret messing with Tony’s kid.


	10. cursed (pt. 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Not your day today, is it?” 
> 
> “Neither was yesterday.”
> 
> “Mm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm double-posting on this fic so make sure you get chapter 11 as well!
> 
> shoutout to CassG who suggested Hokey-Pokey as a nickname for Hocus which is just absolutely perfect.
> 
> warnings for splinters, i guess??

Peter wakes up and groans. He feels like shit.

‘Discombobulated’ is probably the technical term. He feels _off_, like a light breeze could pick him up and scatter him across the lake. What had Doctor Strange said about his atoms yesterday?

“Pete?” That’s Mr Stark, knocking on the door. “You up?”

“You know I am,” Peter grumbles. “FRIDAY told you.”

“Just checking.”

Peter tries to climb out of bed, but his duvet tangles around his ankle and he crashes to the floor, just as Mr Stark opens his door.

“Ow.”

“Bad time?” Mr Stark says with a grin.

“Shut up.”

“I come bearing news of breakfast.”

“Gimme a minute.” Peter starts to wriggle out of his blanket cocoon, but stops when his ankle twinges. “Brilliant. Wonderful. Spider-Man taken down by a blanket and a twisted ankle.”

“Not your day today, is it?” Mr Stark helps him to his feet, hands lingering over his shoulders; he seems to want to make sure Peter is solid just as much as Peter does. He’s not sure he can describe exactly where the wizard sent him yesterday, but it was an _experience_.

“Neither was yesterday.”

“Mm.”

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Pancakes.”

“Awesome.”

They walk down the stairs together. Peter slips on the bottom step and falls on his ass. Pepper laughs so hard she cries.

* * *

“That was so nice, thank you,” Peter says as he gathers up the plates.

“Thank you!” Morgan echoes.

“Thank God she’s picking up on your manners, kid,” Pepper says with a grin.

“What is it like when I’m not around?” Peter jokes, turning to put the dishes down on the side.

He misses.

The plates crash to the floor and smash, white porcelain exploding in every possible direction.

“Shit!” Tony bursts out.

“Shit!”

“Morgan!” Pepper gets to her feet. “Okay, Peter, mind your feet. Come this way. Keep the cat out of here while I clean this up.”

“I’m _so _sorry.” Peter stares at the carnage around him, flabbergasted. “Oh, my God, I’m sorry.”

“It happens,” Pepper assures him.

“Not to me.”

“Not your day,” Mr Stark says again.

* * *

Morgan wants to play outside after breakfast. Peter trips over on the porch and gets a splinter in his palm.

“Are you feeling okay, Underoos?” Mr Stark says, wielding a pair of tweezers. “You’re not this clumsy normally.”

“Uh, no idea.” Peter winces at the tug in his palm. “That it?”

“That’s it.” Mr Stark holds the splinter up. “Big fella.”

Hocus hops up into his lap, giving the offending splinter a suspicious sniff.

“Watch yourself, Hokey-Pokey. This is sharp.”

“Sorry?” Peter splutters. “What did you just call her?”

“You said I couldn’t call her Stinky!”

“And that’s better, how?”

“Hokey-Pokey,” Mr Stark says again. “Take it or leave it.”

“I’m going mad,” Peter declares. “This is it. I’m in hell.”

Hocus swishes her tail; if Peter didn’t know better, he’d say she looked amused.

“Shut up,” he tells her.

Mr Stark snorts. “Now who’s being mean to the cat?”

* * *

“Peter, come see my tent!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Peter grins at Tony as he follows Morgan outside. His danger sense is humming slightly, but he ignores it; ever since Mysterio, even since Thanos, he’s been a little wary of trusting it completely. “What do you wanna–?”

Something cracks above him.

Mr Stark screams, “_Peter_!” and he lunges forward, hands coming up to cover his head.

Behind him, something huge crashes to the ground, rustling, creaking.

“Peter!”

“Morgan, stay there!” Pepper shrieks. Peter idly wonders if they think he’s dead.

“Peter!” Mr Stark is there, rolling him over, frantically patting his face. “Peter, did it hit you? Are you okay?”

“What…?” Peter squints up at him. “No, it didn’t hit me. _What _didn’t hit me?”

Mr Stark sags in relief. Peter sits up and nearly pokes his eye out on a branch.

A whole bough of the old tree by the lake is lying on the grass behind him, barely inches away. That had come _so _close to him, way too close.

“Look, he’s sitting up,” Pepper murmurs to Morgan, “he’s fine, baby.”

“Okay,” Mr Stark says. “This isn’t normal. I’m calling Strange.”

“What!? Why?”

“You’ve had the worst day ever!”

“Just unlucky.” Peter shrugs. “Just Parker luck.”

“That’s not just unlucky.” Mr Stark jabs his hand towards the still-shivering branches. “That’s something else, that’s…” He stops, his eyes going wide. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” Peter asks as he’s hauled to his feet. “Mr Stark, what?”

“I was going to say it’s like you’re cursed,” Mr Stark says. They’re striding back towards the house now. “And given that you’ve had a run-in with a pissed-off wizard in the past twenty-four hours, that’s not entirely out of the question.”

“Oh. That actually kinda makes sense.”

“Your surprise is insulting.” Mr Stark points to the couch as they walk inside. “Sit. There. Do not move.”

“Yep. Got it.” Peter steps towards the couch. Hocus wraps herself around his ankles and he wipes out on the floor, narrowly avoiding cracking his head on the coffee table.

* * *

“Stay still,” Doctor Strange says, his shaking hands hovering over Peter’s shoulder.

Peter resists the urge to tap his feet, nod his head. Mr Stark and Pepper are watching over Doctor Strange’s shoulder, sharing worried glances.

“Al right.” Doctor Strange steps back. “As much as it pains me to say it, Stark was right. The sorcerer we fought yesterday cursed you.”

“With what, bad luck?” Peter says.

“How many times have you nearly died today?”

“Just once, but–“

“Hm, and it’s only lunchtime.” Doctor Strange smiles; it could almost be sympathetic. “The curse will escalate, and eventually, it will kill you.”

Well, shit.

“What can you do?” Pepper asks, her hand clasping around Mr Stark’s. “There must be something.” Peter hears her voice like she’s at the other end of a tunnel.

“I can’t do anything,” Doctor Strange says. “I will have to find the sorcerer who cast the spell and, ah, _convince _him to undo it.”

“But he could be anywhere,” Mr Stark says. “This guy can hop across dimensions. He could literally be worlds away.”

“Yes.”

“Shit,” Peter groans.

“Hey, hey.” Mr Stark sits on the couch beside him. “We’re gonna figure this out, Underoos. You trust me?”

“Always.”

“We’re gonna figure it out.” Mr Stark pauses. “Just, uh, maybe don’t tell your aunt.”

Peter snorts. “No way. I’m not interrupting her romantic week with Happy.”

* * *

“Found him,” Strange announces barely an hour later.

“Oh.” Peter blinks in surprise. “Okay.”

Mr Stark sent Pepper and Morgan shopping a while ago, telling them to stay out as long as possible. Hocus had been banished upstairs when she’d slipped off Peter’s lap and narrowly avoided lacerating his femoral artery with her claws.

“Almost as if he wasn’t hiding,” Doctor Strange says, with a meaningful look at Mr Stark.

“Get him here,” Mr Stark says shortly. “Now.”

“Of _course_, Stark. No problem. Let me just reach across dimensions and–“

Another person appears in the living room. Peter yelps and jumps back, and promptly falls off the couch.

“Whoops.” The man is wearing robes that match Doctor Strange’s, minus the Cloak. He looks young, like a college student. “I see the curse worked.”

“Take it off,” Mr Stark says without preamble. “Undo it. Whatever your magical terminology is. I don’t give a shit. Just stop fucking with my kid.”

“Why?”

Mr Stark crosses the room in a single stride and punches the man in the jaw with his prosthetic arm.

Peter yelps in shock.

“Okay,” the man says. “_Ow_.”

“That a good enough reason?”

“Really not feeling that famous Stark charisma.” The sorcerer holds out a hand. “Alius Dulin, at your service.”

“Undo the curse, Douchebag,” Mr Stark says again.

“No, I don’t think you – it’s Dulin. Doo-lin.”

“I don’t care. You shot my kid across the universe, not once but twice, and now you’re trying to kill him. Why?”

“Why not?”

“_Dude_,” Peter says. “You gotta have something better to do with your time.”

“Better? Maybe. More entertaining, though? Not likely.”

Mr Stark clears his throat. “More than happy to punch you again. Besides, you came to us. Why? What do you want?”

“Are you even from this dimension?” Peter asks abruptly.

“Kid. One thing at a time.”

“I’m just asking–“

“Yes,” Dulin says. “I’m from this world. I studied the mystic arts at Kamar-Taj.”

“Awesome. Understood maybe sixty percent of that.”

“I understand perfectly,” Doctor Strange says. “He’s a part of my order, which means he knows that what he’s doing is wrong.”

“‘Part of my order’,” Dulin mocks. “Boring, right? They’re all so old and stuffy. No sense of fun.”

Peter raises his hand. “I’m totally not having fun.”

Dulin pouts, suddenly looking much younger. “I wasn’t gonna leave the curse on him. I just wanted to mess around a bit.”

“Mess around?” Mr Stark says, his voice flat. “He was missing for a month.”

“Time moves weirdly across dimensions – how was I supposed to know–?”

“You were pretending to be him yesterday, and that was only after you wrecked half of Manhattan.”

“My bad.”

“My bad? Seriously!” Mr Stark turns to Doctor Strange. “You better do something about this clown.”

“Oh, I intend to.” Doctor Strange narrows his eyes. “Tony Stark saved the universe, and this is how you repay him?”

“Dude, I’m just here to fuck some shit up. I don’t know about–“

“Lift the curse, _now_.” That’s a frightening tone of voice, one he’s never heard Doctor Strange use before. “You are in the presence of the Sorcerer Supreme and the wielder of the Infinity Stones. We–“

“Okay, okay! Jeez, man.” Dulin waves his hand in Peter’s direction. “There!”

Doctor Strange smiles, says, “Thank you,” and opens a portal beneath Dulin’s feet. The sorcerer disappears with a yell. “Works every time.”

“Yeah, remind me to never piss you off,” Mr Stark says. “Is that it, then? Peter’s good?”

“Yes. All sorted.”

“Oh,” Peter says. That was anticlimactic. “Cool. What about him?”

“Oh, I’ll leave him falling for about an hour and then bring him before the elders in Kamar-Taj. It may seem like harmless fun, but there’s nothing more dangerous than a being who creates chaos for the sake of it. If nothing else, they will deal with him as a sorcerer abusing his powers.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know if the kid falls in the lake and drowns; probably a hint we went wrong somewhere.”

Mr Stark splutters.

“He’s _joking_, Mr Stark.”

“Oh, he better be.”

“Quick question, Doctor Strange.”

“Yes?”

“So, like, the multiverse is real, right?”

Doctor Strange frowns at him. “Obviously.”

“Because Beck said it was, and obviously everything he said was a fucking lie.”

“Not the multiverse as he explained it to you, but yes. It’s real.”

“Awesome.” Peter thinks for a moment. “No, that’s all I wanted to ask. Thanks, Doctor Strange!”

Doctor Strange shakes his head and rolls his eyes before he disappears through another portal.

“Well then.” Mr Stark claps his hands. “Not that this wasn’t fun, Web-doodle, but let’s never do this again.”

“Really thought there’d be some kind of wild plot against me, not some random magician getting bored.”

“I’m sorry.” Mr Stark sends him a dangerous smile. “Would you rather you were the target of a magical conspiracy instead of a multidimensional prankster?”

“No, I’m just saying, it’s a bit anticlimactic, right?”

“Anticlimactic? Parker, you’re gonna kill me.”

“What?” Peter laughs at Mr Stark’s expression, before a thought hits him. _Multidimensional prankster_. “Hey, Thor was, like, totally sure that his brother died, right?”

Mr Stark stares at him, his mouth hanging open. “Son of a _bitch_.”


	11. fake blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Tony opens the door of Peter’s bedroom – the kid had come in late from patrol and somehow managed to sneak past him while he was busy in the kitchen – to see him sitting on the floor, covered in blood, he completely short-circuits. Full system shutdown. Reboot.
> 
> This isn’t supposed to happen, not after everything. Peter’s supposed to be safe. Tony’s supposed to keep him safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm nearly through all these prompts!! how?? this was a double update, so make sure you've read chapters 10 and 11!
> 
> this is for frostysunflowers - happy birthday!! i hope you have a day that's as amazing as you are 💕💕 i highkey recommend her entire ao3, but especially her own fic for the 'fake blood' prompt, 'It's all fun and games'.
> 
> pay attention now, because all of these prompts so far have been linked in some way, but the last three are going to be more of a tightly connected story. enjoy!

When Tony opens the door of Peter’s bedroom – the kid had come in late from patrol and somehow managed to sneak past him while he was busy in the kitchen – to see him sitting on the floor, covered in blood, he completely short-circuits. Full system shutdown. Reboot.

This isn’t supposed to happen, not after everything. Peter’s supposed to be safe. Tony’s supposed to keep him _safe_.

The kid looks up with a cheerful smile. “Hi, Mr Stark!”

“Peter!” Tony slides to his knees beside him. “Where – what’s wrong? Where are you hurt? What–?”

“Huh?” Peter looks down. “Oh, crap. Um…” He hits the spider on his chest and lets the suit slip off. “It’s – I’m not hurt, Mr Stark, I’m good.”

Tony forces a breath into his lungs. “Then who…?”

“It’s totally fake, I swear. Karen checked. Some college kids were just being rowdy. Probably trying to practice their Halloween costumes, I don’t know. Speaking of which, can I take my suit out trick-or-treating?”

Tony’s going to get whiplash from this change of mood. “Um. Fine. Whatever. Just pleased you’re not bleeding to death.”

“Oh, me too. That would’ve been a bummer. I’d have to miss Halloween.”

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about,” Tony says with a breathless laugh. “Come on, you can’t do shit like that to me. I have a heart–“

“A heart condition, I know, you use it against me at every conceivable opportunity.”

“I do not!”

“You _so_ do.”

“Easy on the sass, Mister. Your aunt didn’t raise you like that.”

“No, but you did.”

Before Tony can even _begin_ to consider the implications of that, they hear Morgan’s voice across the hall. “Peter! I found them!”

“Coming, Mongoose!” Peter quickly throws a T-shirt and some sweatpants on.

“What’s she found?”

“She said she had a mini Iron Man mask and gauntlets, so I said if she found them, we could go as Spider-Man and Iron Man for Halloween.”

Halloween. That thing. Tony nods. “Right.”

“She said she’s never been trick or treating before?” Amusement is glimmering in Peter’s eyes, but there’s a question there, too. “Pretty sure that qualifies as child abuse.”

“Peter!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Peter darts out of his room and into Morgan’s, leaving Tony to swallow down the lump in his throat. “Whoa, they’re _awesome_, Mongoose!”

“I look like Daddy!” Morgan crows as Tony follows.

“You so do!” Peter leans down to inspect the mask. “Huh, I had one kinda like this when I was younger.”

Tony opens his mouth. No words come out.

“They _are _yours!” Morgan says brightly. “That’s what Daddy said.”

“Oh.” Peter’s voice is quiet.

Tony’s thoughts are far away, nearly six years earlier, trawling his miserable way through the Parker’s belongings and organising what needed to be stored and what could be gotten rid of; Pepper had offered to help, but Tony had decided that it was the least of his penance. He’d found the tiny helmet and gauntlets in a box under Peter’s bed, and the memories had hit him like a truck: drones, explosions, Pepper in danger, and a tiny figure facing down a robot nearly three times their size without flinching.

_“Nice work, kid.”_ How long had Tony’s life been on a trajectory to meet Peter’s? He doesn’t believe in fate, but that came close to converting him.

“Well, I guess I don’t need them anymore,” Peter says, jolting Tony back to the present. “Besides, they fit you better, don’t they?”

“Don’t count on it, Squirt,” Tony tells him. “You’re still pretty small yourself.”

Peter yelps in indignation, but the look he shoots Tony when Morgan turns away is beyond adoring.

* * *

“So,” Peter says later, when Morgan’s in bed and they’re vegging out on the sofa watching _Queer Eye_. “I was gone for five minutes and you gave away all my toys?”

“Hey,” Tony snaps, with maybe just a little more bite than usual, “that’s not funny.”

“No,” Peter agrees, contrite, “no, sorry. Bad joke. Poor taste.”

“Mm. But to answer your question: I didn’t give it away. I handed it down. Family heirloom.”

“It cost, like, forty bucks, _max_.”

“A souvenir of our first meeting,” Tony says with a laugh.

Peter’s face softens into an answering smile. “You remember.”

“Oh, vividly.”

“Pretty on-brand for me, you gotta admit.”

“Yeah, please believe me when I say that’s nothing to be proud of. It’s like you were put on this earth to give me a heart attack.”

“Every possible opportunity,” Peter reminds him smugly.

“Hush.”

Hocus chooses that moment to hop up onto the couch and snuggle down on Peter’s face.

“Good girl,” Tony coos. “Well done, Hokey-Pokey.”

“Traitor!” Peter cries, muffled by cat fur. “You’re supposed to be my cat!”

“And who feeds her when you’re not here?”

“Ugh. Point.”

“Thank you.” Tony can’t hide another laugh when Hocus gets up and marches over to him, making sure to step on every single one of Peter’s vital organs on her way. “Hello! It’s the Hokes.”

“It’s the what now?”

“Leave me and my amazing nicknames for the cat alone.”

“Whatever.”

They fall into comfortable silence.

“Actually, don’t bother washing my suit. It looks good with the fake blood.”

“Oh, it does, does it?”

“Yeah, that’s gonna be awesome for Halloween.” Peter stretches his legs out with a contented grunt. “You’re coming, right?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t do Halloween, kid.”

“Your daughter’s about to experience trick-or-treating for the first time, and you’re just…not coming?”

Talk about a guilt trip. “No. You kids go. Have fun.”

Peter narrows his eyes and observes him, looking eerily like Michelle as he does. “I’m gonna convince you. It’s gonna happen. You’re coming trick-or-treating.”

“Nope.”

“Yup.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.”

Tony glares at Peter, who smirks right back, and can’t squash the sudden feeling that he’s already lost.


	12. 'i hate halloween'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hate Hallowe’en.”
> 
> “No, you don’t.”
> 
> “Hate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how did this turn angsty? oh yeah, because it’s me lol
> 
> as if this nearly is finished? i just started it??

“I hate Hallowe’en.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Hate it.”

“Mr Stark–“

“No, Peter.”

“You’ve never taken Morgan trick-or-treating?”

“Nope.”

“Never dressed up?”

“Not since college, probably. Definitely not since the nineties.”

“You’re not even a little bit excited?”

“No.”

“Scrooge,” Peter grumbles, folding his arms and screwing his face up.

“Pretty sure that’s a Christmas thing.” Tony turns back to the stained Spider-Man suit, trying to make sure the fake blood isn’t going to affect the circuitry. “If the wind changes, you’ll be stuck like that.”

“Wow. Country life changed you.”

_That’s not the only thing that did_. “Yeah, whatever. Take Morgan, if you want. Happy can go chaperone. Knock yourself out – not literally, though, I am not having a repeat of the Sugar High.”

“The way you said that sounds like you give it capital letters in your head.”

“Oh, I do.”

“Look, I _totally _apologised for that.”

“And I forgave you, even though it wasn’t really your fault. I’m just telling you I don’t want it happening again.” Tony hopes that’s it for the conversation; he’s tired, and he doesn’t want to delve any deeper into five years of trauma.

“I just think it’ll be fun, Mr Stark–“

“Peter, I said no!”

Peter flinches back – actually flinches – and God, Tony wishes he could take it back but it’s too late, it’s out there now.

“Okay,” Peter says, cowed, and turns back to his notebook, “sorry.”

_Nice one, Stark._

They carry on working until Tony can’t bear the awkward silence anymore. “Kid, I’m sorry–“

“No, it’s okay,” Peter mumbles, “I shouldn’t have kept pushing.”

“Peter, I hate Hallowe’en.”

“I know. You’ve said.”

“No, I hate it because…” Tony swallows. “Costumes. Everywhere. In all the stores. For months beforehand. You can’t get away from them. For five years, it was nothing but a reminder of what I’d lost.”

Peter looks confused.

“_You_, idiot.” Rows upon rows of Spider-Man costumes, Spider-Man masks, Spider-Man candy, pretend webshooters: everything Tony could possibly need to remind him of his greatest failure.

“Oh,” Peter breathes, realisation dawning on his face. “Oh, Mr Stark, I’m sorry–“

“Will you quit apologising for no reason?” Tony clears his throat. “I couldn’t stand it, buddy. That was part of why I had to get out of the city – they love you, and they made sure to show it. It was just…especially bad this time of year, and I’d just be getting over another one of your birthdays gone, and then Christmas would come up, and then it would be the anniversary of when it happened. It was never-ending.”

“Mr Stark…” Peter puts his pen down and walks around the workstation. “I’m okay.”

“I know, kid.”

“You saved me.” And then Peter’s squeezing onto the stool beside him, ignoring the fact that there’s clearly no room. “You did it.”

Tony drops his head onto Peter’s shoulder with a trembling sigh. He’s here, warm and solid and blessedly, beautifully alive.

“I know. But it’s still…” How does he explain to Peter that he mourned him for five years? That doesn’t just vanish because everyone came back; half the time, he wakes up expecting it to be a dream and preparing to lose Peter all over again. “Grief is kinda a habit at this point, kid.”

Peter’s eyebrows draw together, a terribly sad expression flitting across his face, before he controls it. “Well, that’s decided. You’re coming with us.”

“Peter–“

“Not optional.”

“You’re starting to sound like me,” Tony grumbles.

“Karma,” Peter says. “But no, seriously. The only way to get rid of bad memories is to make new ones. You’re coming trick-or-treating with me and Morgan and Harley and Ned and MJ. Period.” There’s no room for negotiation in his tone.

“I’m not dressing up.”

“Scrooge,” Peter says again. “Seriously, you’re gonna love it. If nothing else, Morgan’s gonna love it, and that’s better than literally anything.”

_Damn it_. “I hate when you’re right.”

Peter grins. “How does it feel to hate your whole existence?”

“I’ve had it worse,” Tony says, and because Peter’s still looking too smug, he leans over and presses kiss after kiss to his face.

“Ew! No! Stop!”

“Still think you’re always right, you little shit?”

“Mr Stark–!” Peter tries to squirm away, but Tony still manages to reach the tip of his nose. “I’m a teenager, I’m allergic to physical affection.”

“First of all, bullshit. Second of all, you better not be because missing Halloween isn’t an option for you now you’ve bullied me into coming.”

“That’s the spirit!” Peter says cheerfully.

Tony already knows he’s going to regret this.


	13. trick or treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Come on, chop-chop,” Tony grumbles. “The quicker we start, the quicker we finish.”
> 
> “That’s the spirit!” Peter says cheerfully, taking Morgan’s hand and bouncing up the path of the first house on the street. “You wanna knock, Mongoose?”
> 
> “Yeah!”

“I can’t believe you _actually_ got him to come,” Harley says with a grin.

Tony scowls. He’s wearing his favourite suit with sunglasses to hide his face despite the fact it’s dark. Morgan is in her – or Peter’s – Iron Man mask and gauntlets, Peter is in his bloodstained Spider-Man suit, MJ, amazingly, is in something that looks vaguely Star Wars-related, as is Ned, while Harley is in a terrifyingly accurate replica of an Iron Man suit.

“Never doubt the power of the puppy eyes,” MJ says in her customary flat tone. “That’s why I’m here with a lightsabre on my belt.”

“Come on, chop-chop,” Tony grumbles. “The quicker we start, the quicker we finish.”

“That’s the spirit, both of you!” Peter says cheerfully, taking Morgan’s hand and bouncing up the path of the first house on the street. “You wanna knock, Mongoose?”

“Yeah!”

“Go on.”

Morgan manages a surprisingly strong knock just as everyone else reaches the house, and cries, “Trick or treat!”

“Hello!” the woman says, supremely unbothered, in Tony’s opinion, by the gaggle of kids on her doorway. “Awesome Spider-Man costume.”

“Good evening! Hope you don’t mind teenagers.” Even off-duty, Peter is unfailingly polite.

She waves him off. “Of course not. You still need fun, and you’re looking after your sister.”

“He’s my brother!” Morgan agrees, apparently delighted that someone outside their family is acknowledging it.

The woman grins, and reached down to retrieve a bag which she holds out. “Here, sweetie. Make sure your brother and his friends get some, too.”

While the kids are rifling through the candy and negotiating their preferences, the woman looks up and makes eye contact with Tony.

“I love your costume, sir!” she says. Peter freezes, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“…thank you?”

“You make a great Tony Stark. It’s so nice to see parents getting involved with things their kids enjoy, isn’t it?”

“Anything for the kids.” Tony forces a smile until she closes the door with a cheerful wave. “Not a word.”

Peter doesn’t seem like he’s capable of getting a word out, doubled over with wheezes of laughter. MJ is smirking beside him.

“She – she – she thought you were in a costume?”

“She thought _you _were in a costume!”

Peter’s only response is to shriek and double over even further, catching Ned’s arm to steady himself.

“Parker, I can and will disown you.”

“Bet,” Harley says.

Tony scowls at him. “Why are you here again?”

“After that, why would I be anywhere else?”

“Come on,” Tony grumbles, taking Morgan’s hand and marching down the sidewalk. “Next house.” He’s going to hang back this time, let the kids take the lead. He’s normally pretty good at not being recognised; what are the chances he’ll be noticed again?

Very high, as it turns out, because it happens at the next house, and the one after that, and the five after that.

* * *

They’ve moved onto the next street, this one a little darker, a little emptier. Peter rubs the back of his neck, which in turns put Tony on alert.

“Hey,” he says quietly, letting MJ stride ahead with Morgan, “what’s up?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admits. “I don’t think it’s danger, but it’s…something.”

Tony nods. “Stay sharp.”

“Stark!”

They both spin around, ready to fight but confused by the enthusiastic tone.

“Stark!” Thor calls again, marching towards them. “I see you are also enjoying this fine tradition.”

“Yeah,” Tony says slowly. “Yeah, Point Break, what are you doing here?”

“I am being gifted free sustenance!”

Tony laughs. “Well, good for you, man.” He’s about to say something else, but he catches movement just behind Thor’s head.

A black cat is perched on his shoulder; Tony would almost say it was Hocus, if the eyes weren’t a little too green. It stares him down with a frightening intelligence.

“You, uh, got a little stowaway there, pal.”

“Hm? Oh, yes. This is my cat! My cat…Kitty.”

“Kitty,” Peter repeats.

The cat lashes its tail.

Thor nods. “Yes. He’s a very good cat.”

“Yeah, he looks, uh, great.” Tony clears his throat. “You wanna tag along with us, or are you bored?”

“No, thank you, I promised I’d catch up with a young man I saw earlier in some fine Asgardian armour. He looked like a warrior.” Thor beams his infectious smile, the one Tony hasn’t seen since before Thanos, and hurries away.

“Who’s gonna tell him costumes are a thing?” Tony says as they turn to catch up with the others.

He expects Peter to laugh, but the kid just frowns and rubs the back of his neck again. “That was weird.”

“What?”

“Either my spidey sense is being off…”

“I thought that was getting better,” Tony says sharply, images of trains and rubble and London in chaos still all too fresh in his mind.

“It is, so it was going off at Thor…”

“Not likely. Guy’s just a buff teddy bear.”

“Or his cat.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah, weird.”

Tony shakes himself. “Come on, let’s go. Gotta harass more random civilians into giving you sugar.”

“Are you…enjoying this?”

“No.” A bare-faced lie, not least because they’ve seen at least five kids dressed up as Spider-Man, and he’s nearly cried at Peter’s awestruck expression every time.

“You are!”

“No. No, I’m tolerating it.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Yep.”

“Parker, I’m not enjoying this–!”

* * *

It’s much later when they get home, once Happy has dropped off Ned and MJ and made his way back to the lake house. Harley collapses face-first on the couch, worn out, while Tony quickly puts Morgan to bed. When he comes back downstairs, he finds Harley snoring into the cushions and Peter halfway to joining him.

What’s one more night on the couch?

“Hey, Webs,” he says gently, shifting them both so they’re lying comfortably. Hocus appears from nowhere and curls up on Peter’s chest, but only after a moment’s suspicious sniffing, like she could sense the other cat. “You have a good time tonight?”

“Awesome. Thank you for taking us.”

“Well, I _clearly _had the best costume.”

Peter giggles, sounding years younger. Good: let him always be this happy and carefree. Let him be a kid.

“D’you still hate Halloween?” he mumbles after a while, voice thick with sleep.

Tony looks down at him: tired, half-asleep, his hair ruffled, and wonderfully alive. “No, kid. Not anymore.”

“Good,” Peter decides, a yawn bubbling under the surface. “You were missing out on all the fun.”

Tony still can’t take his eyes off him. “Guess I was.”

“So was I…?” The yawn gets the better of him. “Was I right?”

“Hm?”

“You just needed to make new memories.”

“You’re always right, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Peter manages a tired grin. “Boom.”

“Boom?”

“Boom.”

_Teenagers_. Tony shakes his head. “Happy Halloween, Underoos.”

“Happy Halloween, Mr Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! this fic has been so much fun. once again, a massive thank you to @hailing-stars, who created these prompts.
> 
> coming up for me: more chapters of 'bits and pieces' (we might finally get to ffh, who knows lol), more irondad bingo prompts, and of course the next part of 'family business'. i'm also doing the irondad fic exchange this year, and i have both a bad things happen bingo card and a found family bingo card. guess it'll depend if i'm in the mood for whump or fluff ;)

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @akillerqueenwrites, or my main blog @akillerqueenyouare. come say hi, ask questions, leave prompts or just yell at me. thank you for reading!


End file.
